My Grampa died on Saturday. You never want to get that phone call but when you do, at his age, you expect it to be death from a heart attack or the like. Unfortunately, that was not the case this time. His girlfriend (do they call it girlfriend when they’re in their 70’s?) was driving, pulled away from the stop sign and did not, apparently, see the semi truck. Mercifully, my Grampa died instantly.
Grampa was a good man who liked simple things. He loved darts and playing solitaire with real cards. He would not know what to do with sushi or say, a herb-crusted salmon accompanied with sherry scented bearnaise and a wine pairing. He was more a meat and potatoes sort of man. With beer. Bud or Kokanee please, none of that fancy craft brew nonsense.
Card I made them for Christmas 1985. I was 10 years old. Hilarious!
He loved his family even if, like most men of his generation, he couldn’t always show it. And when he could, when there were children around, he showed it.
Grampa was cool. Chill. Laid-back and easy-going. The kind of guy you want to sit back and have a cold beer with.
Or an Ice Cream.
When tragedy like this strikes, it’s easy to get all existential and wonder what the hell is the point. Why are we here? Then the kids of the family crawl your way and even though you may not be able to articulate the ‘why’ you know there is a ‘why’. It really is the circle of life.
And if that is all there is, that is enough.
You will very much be missed Grampa. Lots of love your way!